


I Read That Someplace

by mysticanni



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Astrology, Fortune Telling, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Love, M/M, Minor Injuries, magazine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28511121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticanni/pseuds/mysticanni
Summary: When John starts working for a magazine he isn't expecting to be making up the horoscopes.He is even more surprised when they seem to start coming true for at least one reader.
Relationships: John Deacon/Roger Taylor
Comments: 22
Kudos: 31





	I Read That Someplace

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "We're All Light" by XTC

When John had joined The Grapevine (“You’re going to work in a pub, dear?” Freddie had puzzled. “It’s a magazine, Freddie,” John had replied, shocked that Freddie had never heard of The Grapevine before) he had hoped he would be working on the serious articles and interviewing thoughtful intelligent people about how to combat famine or poverty – how to achieve world peace. 

He had not expected to be escorted to a desk with an overflowing in-tray of letters and informed he would be responsible for selecting and answering the most entertaining enquiries for the advice columns.

“Ooh, you’re the agony aunt!” Freddie’s eyes had lit up. “Were there any really juicy problems?”

“It’s confidential!” John had protested, flopping onto the sofa.

Freddie had given him a withering look. “Darling, these people have written to a magazine to impart their troubles to a complete stranger in the hopes that their personal problems will be printed for the world to see! Of course it isn’t bloody confidential! Now spill the beans!” 

John sighed. “It’s not just the agony aunt column,” he grumbled, “I have to answer enquiries for the ‘Household Gods’ column where people ask how to get a red wine stain out of a white carpet – that kind of thing.”

“You can choose what to answer, can’t you?” Freddie had clarified. When John nodded he added, “Well, you just need to pick the letters you can answer.”

John shook his head. “I don’t know the answer to anything,” he sighed. 

“Oh, darling, that’s simply not true! You’re wonderful at fixing appliances,” Freddie noted. “If all else fails then just make up an enquiry you do know the answer to. Who’s going to know?”

John felt shocked to the core by this suggestion. “I can’t do that!” he spluttered. 

Freddie shrugged. “I don’t see why not, dear. Now, would you like a glass of wine to very carefully not spill anywhere?”

*

Freddie had come to stay for a couple of days after a burst pipe flooded the room he had been staying in. He had never left.

They had met when a bee had landed on John’s nose while he was waiting for the lights to change so he could cross the road. John had stood very still wary of being stung on the nose. He had found himself muttering to the bee that he was not a flower and urging it to move on. He was only vaguely aware that the person waiting to cross the other way was looking strangely at him.

The bee was still on his nose when the lights changed so he stayed where he was. He was aware of someone crossing towards him and hoped this would not startle the bee. “Are you okay, dear?” a voice asked him.

John had explained he was just waiting for the bee to leave, ideally without stinging him on the nose when the bee flew off. “You do smell gorgeous,” the person who had crossed the road said, “What aftershave do you use? I read somewhere that we smell horrible to bees but I think you must be the exception. I’m Freddie, by the way.”

They had ended up going for coffee, or in Freddie’s case tea and they had been friends ever since. Initially John had thought Freddie was flirting with him but he soon realised Freddie was like that with everyone.

*

Now, Freddie handed John a generous glass of wine and curled up on the sofa next to him. “Are there any stunning single men in your new office?” he asked John. 

“Only the sub-editor,” John told him. “The rest are mostly middle-aged men with beer bellies, wives and kids.”

“Whereas the sub-editor...?” Freddie prompted. 

“He’s tall and thin with lots of dark curly hair – very striking. He seems very serious. Of course, he might be married with kids but I didn’t see any photos of children on his desk and he doesn’t wear a wedding ring,” John informed him. 

“And you like him?” Freddie probed. 

John laughed, “I think he might be a bit too intense for me. He might be more your type perhaps?”

Freddie made a face. “I’m not sure intense and serious is my cup of tea either, darling.”

*

The following day as John stared slightly despairingly at the unstable tottering heap of envelopes on his desk he thought about what Freddie had said about simply making up some enquiries that he could answer. He didn’t suppose he could do that all the time but maybe he could do it for his first columns - just until he had found his feet.

He was jotting down some ideas when he sensed someone looming over him and glanced up to find Brian, the sub-editor, standing by his desk. “I’m afraid the member of staff who normally writes the horoscopes has resigned. Apparently they’ve inherited some money and presumably want to spend more time with their wealth. Anyway, I don’t suppose you’d mind doing the horoscopes too, would you?” He smiled at John. 

John stared at him. “But I don’t know anything about horoscopes!” he protested. 

Brian shrugged. “No one does, do they?” he murmured, running a hand through his already messy hair, “Just make it up, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He gave John an encouraging smile and turned and strode back towards his office – a little glass box in the corner of the otherwise open plan room. 

*

John was just wondering if he could simply slip away at lunchtime and not return. He couldn’t do this. He did not feel his degree had trained him to invent horoscopes or answer ‘Barbara from Swindon’s’ letter about her reluctance to submit to the desire of her husband for a ‘menage a trois’ with Ellen from their tennis club. Just as he was considering not even waiting for lunchtime and quietly getting his coat he became aware of someone else looming over him.

“Hi, I’m Phoebe,” this newcomer said, “Peter Freestone but everyone calls me Phoebe. I’m your assistant,” he added brightly. “I’m so sorry I was off sick yesterday when you arrived.”

The man seemed to have a bad cold and John thought he should probably still be off sick. “Assistant?” John echoed. 

Phoebe gestured to the heap of letters. “Mr Foster who was here before you used to trust me to pick a selection of letters I thought would be suitable for publication. Of course I understand if you want to do that yourself...”

“No, no, no!” John interrupted enthusiastically, “I would be delighted if you would pick a selection of letters!” He beamed at Phoebe. Then he felt guilty. “You don’t look well, are you sure you should be here?”

Phoebe nodded. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”

Another thought occurred to John. “If it’s not in your job description...?”

“Officially it’s not,” Phoebe agreed, “but I like reading the letters.”

“Well, it would certainly be a huge help,” John told him. “I’m apparently inventing horoscopes too.”

“Oh, yes, I heard that Mr Simpson’s great-aunt left him an unexpected fortune. Apparently he’s gone to Hawaii,” Phoebe said, “I don’t think he foresaw that at all!” He laughed. “Would you like a tea?” he offered, “Or do you prefer coffee?”

*

“I have an assistant!” John announced to Freddie as he entered the flat, feeling much happier than he had when he had left for work that morning. “He has a terrible cold but he is still very efficient about working through all the letters and categorising them!”

He thought he heard a mew and checked around his feet wondering if a cat had followed him inside. Then a small ball of ginger fluff rolled out of the sitting room doorway, looked up at him and mewed again. “I have an assistant and we appear to have a kitten!” John called. 

“That’s wonderful, dear,” Freddie said, peering round the door from the sitting room into the hall. “Is he devastatingly gorgeous?”

“A kitten, Freddie,” John said firmly.

“Ah, yes, this is Biscuit. Biscuit, this is John, your other daddy,” Freddie said, scooping the kitten up. “Biscuit was left in a cardboard box next to a rubbish bin,” Freddie told him, “I’ve taken him to the vet but they have no record of any lost kittens answering his description so...”

John sighed. “So we have a kitten,” he concluded. He tentatively reached out and gently touched Biscuit’s soft head with his finger, “Pleased to meet you, Biscuit.”

Freddie breathed a sigh of relief. “So, darling, you have an assistant. Is he divine?”

“He’s very handsome,” John reported, “And he’s very sweet. He said a couple of things that made me think he might have a partner.”

“Pity,” Freddie sighed, “You should have someone sweet.”

“I’m quite happy as I am,” John protested, knowing there was no point. 

“So, have you got any juicy letters to tell me about?” Freddie asked.

John told Freddie about Barbara from Swindon. “There isn’t enough detail,” Freddie complained. “If Ellen has the personality of a rock and looks like the back end of a bus I can understand her reluctance but otherwise I say she should go for it!”

“So the reply should be: Dear Barbara, if Ellen is hot there should be no hesitation. If Ellen is unattractive I would suggest you file for divorce?” John laughed. 

“Now, I didn’t say anything about divorce, dear. I would assume Ellen is attractive otherwise why would Mr Barbara want both of them in bed? Are all of the letters this unsatisfactory in terms of juicy detail?” Freddie demanded. 

“I’m afraid they are,” John nodded solemnly. “Some of them are heart-breaking though,” he added, “One I opened today was from a woman in an abusive relationship. Phoebe says those are the ones he would suggest we reply to rather than the Barbara-type problems.”

“If you can help someone who really needs it, that would be good,” Freddie nodded. 

“I don’t think I can help any of them,” John muttered, “but I can put contact numbers for organisations that can offer actual help in my replies.”

“And if that helps one person when they are flicking through an old copy of your magazine at the dentist’s then that’s a wonderful thing,” Freddie told him seriously. 

“Yeah, I suppose it is. Oh,” John groaned, “I forgot to tell you – now I’m doing the horoscopes too!”

Freddie looked appalled. “You don’t know anything about astrology!” he gasped. 

“Brian, the sub-editor I think you would like, told me just to make it up,” John informed him. 

“You can’t just make it up!” Freddie shrieked, “It’s a very serious subject!”

“Well, I don’t know what else to do. Maybe you could help me make...compose...them?” John suggested. 

“It looks like I shall have to, darling!” Freddie huffed. 

*

“Sun in Jupiter, something, aspect, something, whatever,” John shrugged. 

“In a magazine like yours,” from the emphasis Freddie put on ‘yours’ he made the magazine sound puerile, “no one will appreciate the finer points of astrology. They just want to know if this is a good month for them at work, a good month for love and a good month for money. Give every sign two out of three, unless you particularly hate someone who is, say, a Taurus in which case you can give them a shit month. Since you’re just making it up anyway,” he sighed. 

“Am I Taurus?” John wondered.

Freddie sighed and rolled his eyes. “Darling...I can’t believe your precious Brian has asked you to do this. You’re Leo, sweetheart. Give yourself what you want – a new love - lots of money - work looking up – anything you like.”

“If only it would all come true,” John muttered. 

“Maybe it will,” Freddie smiled. 

*

Every Friday after work most of the people in the office gathered in the pub on the corner of the street – John noted with slight annoyance that it was called The Grape – and had a couple of drinks. The Editor, Mr Beach, usually bought a couple of rounds. Everyone called him Miami and he seemed very nice, although as far as John could tell he didn’t spend a lot of time in the office – Brian seemed to do a lot of the actual work. 

The bartender seemed to be called Crystal - at least John thought that was what someone had yelled to get his attention. Knowing his name didn’t seem to get anyone served any faster. “Sorry,” maybe-called-Crystal said when he took John’s order, “We’re a bit short-staffed just now. Are you new at The Grapevine, then?”

Over the blaring music and the babble of voices John had confirmed he was. “I’m John,” he called. 

“Crystal,” the man replied, “Nice to meet you.”

*

The next Friday Crystal was showing a stunning looking blond how to pull a pint when the magazine crowd spilled in to the pub. “This is Roger,” John heard Crystal tell Phil – who conducted all the serious interviews John dreamed of. 

“I thought you were a bird!” Phil brayed as if this was the wittiest thing in the world. John thought darkly that Phil did not deserve the serious interviews.

The beautiful blond flushed and moved slightly further along the bar until he was facing John. “What can I get you?” he called, evidently finding it hard to dredge up a cheerful tone but making a valiant effort which John appreciated. 

John asked for a pint and found himself staring at the blond as he poured it. Roger’s tongue was clenched between his teeth in concentration and he looked so delectable John wanted to vault over the bar and ravish him. John wasn’t exactly sure what ravishing someone would involve but it sounded passionate enough – intense enough – for what he wanted to do to Roger. He realised Roger had set the pint in front of him on the bar and had said something. “Sorry, what?” he gabbled, then he realised Roger was expecting payment and fumbled in his pocket for his wallet. 

His only further interaction with Roger was taking his change and the smile Roger kindly bestowed upon him and then he stepped back from the bar and was swept up in the crowd of slightly manic freed workers enjoying the start of their weekend while Roger was still working trapped behind the bar. 

John sipped his pint and decided that the horoscope for his star sign should definitely mention a new romance. He grinned to himself – maybe if he was lucky it would actually come true. 

*

“There,” Crystal ruffled Roger’s hair, ignoring his glare, “you survived your first Friday night shift.”

“I’m sorry about those glasses,” Roger mumbled. 

“You did really well. Don’t worry about the glasses – the occasional breakage is an occupational hazard. Now, would you like a lift home?” Crystal offered. 

“That’s really kind of you, yes, please,” Roger beamed. He thought of the cute man from the magazine. “Do the magazine people come in a lot?” he wondered. 

Crystal grinned. “Got your eye on one of them?” he asked. Roger was annoyed with himself for blushing. “Ooh, which one of them do you like?” Crystal studied Roger who had the strange sensation that Crystal could see right through him. “John,” Crystal decided. He clearly noticed Roger’s look of horror and added, “Don’t worry I’m not looking for a nice wife to cook my tea either, if you catch my drift. Was I right, is it John?”

“Which one is John?” Roger asked, blushing furiously. 

They established that it was John who had caught Roger’s eye. “He’s new,” Crystal told him. “He’s only been in on a Friday so far. Most of them come in here on a Friday night but some of them are here a lot more often.”

Crystal ruffled Roger’s hair again and Roger wondered if he liked touching it because his own hair was receding. “He seems nice,” Crystal said, “and you’re working in the right place to get to know him better.”

*

Roger had never bought a copy of The Grapevine before. He knew it was considered the sort of magazine serious people read for in-depth articles about complex social issues. He was slightly surprised to find, as he flicked through it, that there were also interviews with actors, a baking section an agony aunt column and, right at the back, horoscopes.

Roger would claim not to really read magazines of any description but he was secretly fond of a good agony aunt column. And if he saw horoscopes then he always looked to see what was going to happen to him. He would claim (not entirely truthfully) that he didn’t believe any of it, of course.

He read his horoscope first - Leo. This month he may just have started a new job. Well, that was quite accurate. After a slightly rocky start he would be settling in to his role. Roger had found that first Friday night frazzling but he did feel he was starting to feel at home behind the bar. He skipped the part about Leo’s in a relationship. Single Leos might find a new acquaintance in their orbit that they found attractive. Roger thought about John in the bar and smiled. 

Money might be tight this month. Roger nodded, because he was between pay-days so to speak and that was a bit tricky financially. Really, this was a very good horoscope. There may be an unexpected arrival in the family – a new pet, perhaps, or news of a baby. This was less accurate but on the whole Roger was impressed.

*

Freddie pouted at John. “You might have said I’d receive a windfall, darling!”

John stared at him, scooping up Biscuit, who had clambered onto his shoe, for a cuddle. “Hey you,” he murmured to Biscuit, “Freddie, it’s all made up. You know it’s all made up because you helped to make it up!”

“Well, yes, darling but not a single sign seems to be having any luck with money this month,” Freddie objected. 

John shrugged, running his fingers through Biscuit’s soft fur, “So the money part of pretty much everyone’s horoscope will be relatable and accurate.”

“Darling, you’re much too cynical to be writing horoscopes,” Freddie sighed.

“Everyone is going to be lucky in love this month,” John pointed out, grinning, “Which isn’t cynical at all, is it?”

*

“Nothing is going to happen if your only interaction with him is ‘pint please’ and ‘thanks’,” Freddie scolded John.

“It is only the second time I have seen him, Freddie,” John pointed out, “I have only spent a few minutes in his company.” This time there had been some physical contact – Roger’s fingers had brushed his as he gave John his change. John cherished the memory – the tingle of anticipation – his mind conjuring up how Roger’s fingers might feel caressing his skin – his touch lingering this time. John realised that Freddie was saying something and he thought that he was literally losing time to Roger. “Sorry?”

“Never mind, dear, go back to your nice day-dream,” Freddie instructed him with a wink. John was furious to find that he was blushing. 

*

Crystal had said that Roger was in the perfect place to get to know John better but in fact all Roger knew was what beer he preferred. He had no idea how to open a conversation with him – not to mention the fact that there were usually other thirsty people clamouring for his attention, snapping their fingers at him or calling to him or waving money at him. It might be different if John ever came in on a quiet night – a Monday, perhaps when things were slower.

Today their fingers had brushed as Roger had handed John his change. Roger wondered what it would be like to have John’s fingers exploring his body. He had calloused fingertips, Roger had noted. Was he a guitar player? His mind wandered to the tantalising prospect of John playing the guitar for him and gently crooning something... “Oi! Dolly Daydream, there’s people need serving over there,” Crystal yelled and Roger flushed and hurried over to pin on his grin and ask what he could get for the customers.

*

“No John tonight?” Roger asked, hoping he sounded casual. He set a pint on the bar in front of Phoebe who was John’s assistant (Roger had found that out from Crystal who had also imparted the knowledge that Phoebe was Miami’s lover although apparently none of the magazine staff knew that. Roger had wondered for a brief moment how Crystal had found out but then had simply accepted that Crystal knew everything about everyone.)

Phoebe looked guilty. “He wasn’t feeling very well. I’m afraid I’ve given him my cold.”

Roger felt a little surge of outrage on John’s behalf. How dare Phoebe make John ill? It was impossible to be cross with Phoebe however, he was just too nice.

Not seeing John was disappointing though. Roger looked forward to his weekly glimpse of John’s lovely eyes and kind smile. 

*

Roger purchased The Grapevine the next month too and flicked to the back for his horoscope. Work would be going well for him although he should look out for ill health which might force him to take some time off. Roger now had a cold – he blamed Phoebe although in reality given the number of customers he served every day he could have picked it up anywhere – but he had not taken any time off which he felt quite smug about. 

Single Leos would find love elusive. The person they longed for would seem always just out of reach but they mustn’t give up hope. That seemed all too accurate to Roger and he sighed. 

Money would be better for him this month although he should look out for an unexpected bill or expense around the twelfth. Roger really hoped not. He should beware of arguments mid month with his family. 

“You don’t have any family,” Crystal pointed out when Roger told him how accurate the horoscopes in The Grapevine were.

Roger waved his hand dismissively as if swatting away an imaginary family. “I’ve got you,” he shrugged. 

Crystal had a strange look on his face. “Yeah,” he croaked, “You’ve got me, Dreamer.” He cleared his throat. “So we’re going to have a row mid-month?”

“I expect you’re right and it’s all rubbish,” Roger said lightly. 

*

“You’ve got fan-mail,” Brian said, smiling down at John and brandishing a piece of paper at him. It took John a few seconds to realise he was supposed to take the piece of paper from Brian. 

It was a short letter gushing about how accurate John’s invented horoscopes were. “I can only speak for my own sign, of course,” the writer noted, “but the accuracy for Leos has been incredible. I have been unwell and eventually did have to take time off work. I was reluctant to do so but my boss insisted which we had a row about so that came true too (he’s my family) and unfortunately I did have an unexpected bill on the twelfth when my hairdryer stopped working and I had to buy a new one. Your astrologer is marvellous!”

The letter was signed ‘A Friend’. Presumably a slightly unhinged friend, John thought. There was something almost unbearably poignant in the way the writer described their boss as their family. John wondered about that. Were they married? Perhaps they were siblings? It seemed a slightly odd turn of phrase. He felt slightly guilty for prescribing such a hard month for this poor unknown fellow Leo. Then he dismissed the thought as ridiculous – the horoscopes were made up – they could not come true - it was a coincidence that was all. 

Brian shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. “Since you’re proving such a success at writing the horoscopes,” he mumbled, indicating the letter, “And since you’re managing your workload admirably, I was wondering if you would like to keep writing all three columns?”

It was not, of course, a question. “I’d be delighted,” John sighed. 

*

Crystal had furtively rummaged through the staff records to find Roger’s address and had gone to see how he was. He’d driven Roger home before after shifts but he’d always dropped him at a bus stop so he wasn’t entirely sure where Roger lived. 

He started to go to Roger’s house then had told himself he was being silly – Roger had a cold – he would be perfectly fine. He had turned around to go home then thought of Roger saying Crystal was his family. He twirled round and began heading for Roger’s house again. But he was not Roger’s family. He was Roger’s boss. He barely knew Roger, really. They didn’t have the sort of relationship where Crystal popped in to an address Roger hadn’t freely given to him as a friend to see how Roger was. He turned round again to go home.

And yet – Roger seemed to regard him as family. Family would check on each other even if they had just had a row. Even if one of them was a stubborn little fool who had come into work when they could barely stand up. Crystal sighed. “Fuck it,” he muttered and headed firmly in the direction of Roger’s house.

Roger’s address turned out to be a bed-sit in a dodgy part of town. Crystal frowned as he approached what should have been the front door of the building. There didn’t seem to be a door. Anyone could just walk in. Crystal walked in and wandered around to get an idea of the flat numbers. There seemed to be numerous doors off long corridors. The stairwells stank of piss. The lights buzzed and flickered. 

Crystal located Roger’s door and knocked. He was relieved to note there was, at least, a spy-hole. He thought he heard movement inside. Then he heard someone unlocking the door from the inside and was glad that Roger had apparently barricaded himself into his room.

“Crystal!” Roger beamed at him although he looked terrible. “Come in!” 

Roger’s home proved to be one main room with a tiny bathroom off it. It was chilly and the bathroom had mould creeping over the walls. “My flatmate just moved out,” Crystal lied, “And I think you should come home with me.”

Roger frowned. “I doubt I could afford the rent...”

“I can manage it on my own,” Crystal told him, “The room’s tiny. So you can just pay what you can afford. But I’m not leaving you here. So start packing.”

Roger looked worried. “I think people find me annoying to live with,” he mumbled. 

Crystal grinned, “You too, huh? We’ll be fine. Shall we have a cuppa then you can start packing?”

Roger shook his head. “My hairdryer conked out this morning and I don’t seem to have any electricity.”

“The sooner we get you out of here the better, then,” Crystal said. 

*

The Household Gods column in the next edition of The Grapevine had a section about various common issues with hairdryers and how to fix them. A weird coincidence, Roger thought. His hairdryer had been consigned to the dustbin after Crystal had looked at it and pronounced it dead. Roger had bought a new one. Crystal had thought him crazy, “All that money on a hairdryer when you could just let it dry naturally.”

Roger had considered Crystal mad for suggesting this. “I can’t just let it dry naturally! It’d be...No!”

Now, he tapped the article in The Grapevine. “If only we’d had this when we were trying to fix the hairdryer,” he sighed.

“I’m pretty certain I was the only one of ‘we’ trying to fix your hairdryer,” Crystal snorted. “I’m fairly sure the motor had burnt out,” he added. 

“It tells you here how to fix that,” Roger informed him.

“I don’t have a hairdryer,” Crystal shrugged, “so it’s never going to be of use to me. You might like to keep the article in case anything happens to your new one. Or find out who writes the column and make friends with them.”

Roger was about to say something about Crystal not having any hair but decided that would be cruel. “Do you want to know what your horoscope says?”

They were comfortably curled up in their respective armchairs in what Roger still thought of as Crystal’s house although some of the items in the house were now ‘Roger’s chair’ or ‘Roger’s bed’ or ‘Roger’s mug’. Roger’s two mugs had been broken in the move. So now one of Crystal’s mugs was his. 

Roger still thought of the house as Crystal’s yet he felt as if he had been here for years and he had to admit Crystal had been correct about them being fine as housemates. They were companionable, he thought, that was the word. 

“Go on, then,” Crystal nodded, “tell me what’s going to happen to me this month.”

Roger cleared his throat. “Money,” he announced in a serious tone, “is looking up. You may receive an unexpected windfall at the end of the month.”

“I won’t hold my breath,” Crystal muttered. 

Roger frowned at him. “Love,” he continued, “If you are single someone you had lost contact with may unexpectedly re-enter your life.”

Crystal shuddered, “I do hope not.”

Roger grinned. “Work – you may find a busy period mid-month stressful. Be careful not to take it out on those around you.”

“Better keep out of my way mid-month then, Dreamer,” Crystal laughed. 

“Family,” Roger said, “A family member may be moody. Try to get them to open up to you about what is wrong. Well,” Roger shook his head, “that can’t be about me – I am never moody.”

“Sure you’re not,” Crystal snorted. “What’s yours then?”

Roger read his horoscope to Crystal. He was to be careful not to overspend and leave himself short of money before pay day. He nodded solemnly, making a mental note to heed this. Single Leos might find themselves pining over a seemingly unattainable love and should try to relax and have fun instead of dwelling on this situation. That, Roger thought, was easier said than done. 

“Maybe you’re moody because you’re pining for John,” Crystal suggested.

“I am never moody,” Roger repeated. “Ooh, I’m going to find work busy too and should be careful I don’t over-do it.”

“Not much chance of that,” Crystal laughed. 

“Oh, fuck you,” Roger said sweetly, “And it says I will become closer to a family member. Maybe that’s about moving in here with you,” he beamed. 

“It’s a month late, then, isn’t it,” Crystal pointed out.

*

The busy period was a retirement dinner. Not for one of the magazine’s staff but for someone who worked in one of the nearby offices. It was an advertising company, Crystal thought. They were a rowdy crowd and he sighed inwardly as he heard glass breaking. He saw Roger already heading in the direction of the sound and smiled. He realised that he was starting to think like Roger as if this was the bloody horoscope coming true and barked a grumpy, “What can I get you?” at the next customer.

Then he found himself thinking that at least he was not taking out his mood on Roger (just on a customer which was actually probably worse) and cursed himself for a fool again. The horoscopes were not coming true. They could not be.

“Crystal!” a shrill voice shrieked. “It is you! I thought it was!”

“Oh fucking hell,” Crystal muttered under his breath. His horoscope had bloody warned him, he thought. Here was the blast from his past. He plastered a smile across his face. “Janice,” he greeted her. 

“I’m never normally in here, of course,” Janice leaned towards him across the bar. She was wearing a very low cut top and Crystal hastily averted his eyes. A cloud of perfume engulfed him and he felt as if he was suffocating.

“Do you two know each other?” Roger chirruped cheerfully as he slid back behind the bar. “Hi,” he greeted Janice, “I’m Roger.”

“Crystal and I go way back,” Janice purred. “He was my demon lover until he decided women weren’t his cup of tea.”

Crystal wondered irritably if she could shout that a bit louder so the younger advertising executives could give him a good kicking to round off the evening if they were in a particularly homophobic mood. “What brings you here tonight, Jan?” he asked. She had always hated being called Jan. “And can I get you a drink?”

“I’ll have a vodka and tonic, please,” Janice requested. “I used to work with this crew many years ago and when I heard Cyril was retiring I had to come and say goodbye.”

Crystal thought she made it sound as if Cyril was dead instead of about to spend more time on the golf course. Janice was explaining that Cyril had taught her all she knew. He avoided looking at Roger knowing Roger would be thrilled at this evidence of his horoscope coming true.

*

“What are you doing with that?” Crystal asked, seeing Roger with a bucket of hot soapy water.

“Someone puked behind the potted plant in the corner,” Roger sighed. 

Crystal shuddered. “That poor plant,” he muttered. 

“This time most of it has gone on to the carpet,” Roger informed him sadly. “You know,” he began, suddenly sounding a lot perkier, “Janice...”

“Janice is not a love interest,” Crystal cut him off firmly. “It was just a coincidence that she turned up here tonight. That bit of the horoscope was about my love life and she is very definitely not in any way involved in any aspect of my life and I have no intention of letting her back into it.

“Ooh, what did she do?” Roger asked. 

“What makes you think she did something?” Crystal countered crossly, earning himself an arched eyebrow from Roger. He sighed. “I...I mean it wasn’t going anywhere anyway obviously but...I found her in bed with my best friend at the time.”

“That bitch!” Roger cried. 

“Yeah, well, it’s ancient history, Dreamer, don’t get excited,” Crystal grumbled. 

Roger set down the bucket of water and returned to Crystal to give him a hug. “Even so,” he murmured.

Crystal wondered if this counted as them growing closer as the horoscope had indicated they would and sighed. He supposed at least he had a windfall to look forward to at the end of the month. 

*

“More fan mail for you,” Brian smiled, setting a letter on John’s desk.

It was from the same ‘friend’ as before. This time not only had their horoscope come true (with the notable exception of a lack of predicted moodiness on the part of the writer) but their boss had also found their horoscope to be very accurate.

The family boss, John recalled, grinning as he wondered if they were in the mafia or something – a family firm. Then he thought if they were in the mafia he would probably be in trouble if they found out he was making the horoscopes up.

*

Biscuit was lying around Freddie’s neck like a scarf. “Are you a kitten or an accessory?” John grinned, running his fingertip over her soft head. “I’ve had some feedback about the horoscopes,” he muttered to Freddie. 

“Well, you shouldn’t have been asked to do them in the first place, dear,” Freddie told him, clearly about to launch into a spirited defence of him. 

John grinned. “Actually, I’ve received praise!” He brandished the two letters towards Freddie who took them and scanned them. 

“They’re coming true for people?” Freddie gasped.

“Well,” John shrugged, “obviously not, but someone thinks they are.”

“Darling, if they’re coming true for people then it would be marvellous if you could send a handsome man my way and perhaps some money too, please,” Freddie smiled at him. 

John laughed, “No problem, Freddie!”

*

“What’s wrong?” Crystal asked, finding Roger sniffling over a magazine.

Roger looked up. “Angela from Norwich,” he gulped, indicating the page he was reading.

“Who the hell is Angela from Norwich?” Crystal asked, mystified. He flopped on to the sofa next to Roger and slung his arm around Roger’s shoulders. 

“It’s the letter on the problem page,” Roger explained. “Angela’s husband recently died and her teenage son has become very withdrawn and she is asking what she can do to help him. The reply is really lovely,” he told Crystal. 

Crystal grunted. “I’m going to ban the bloody Grapevine from the house if it’s going to make you cry.”

“’M not crying,” Roger mumbled untruthfully, blowing his nose. “Would you like to hear your horoscope?”

“I suppose,” Crystal replied, feigning nonchalance. He had reluctantly been forced to admit the last horoscope had been quite accurate. He had even received an unexpected sum of overpaid tax back at the end of the month – the windfall the magazine had mentioned presumably. Crystal hadn’t thought the tax-man ever gave anything back. 

*

Roger was unable to avoid squeaking as Crystal swabbed the cut on his cheek with a cotton wool pad soaked in hot water and antiseptic lotion. “Sorry, Dreamer,” Crystal murmured. “I have to clean these cuts,” he added apologetically.

“’S okay,” Roger mumbled, “Thank you,” he added. He was sitting in his underwear on the kitchen counter and Crystal was tending to the wounds he had suffered when he had been set upon by a group of men as he was coming home from the pub after his shift.

Crystal always drove them home if they were on the same shift but tonight was Crystal’s night off so Roger had been heading for the bus stop when he had become aware of people closing in on him from all sides. There had been at least five of them. 

Crystal cleared his throat, “Did they...uh...touch you?”

Roger stared at him blankly for a few seconds. They had certainly touched him, using their fists and – once he had been on the ground – their boots. Then he realised what Crystal meant – had he been sexually assaulted. He gave a little shiver. “No,” he shook his head. “No, they just hit me.” He was annoyed to find that his voice wobbled a little.

Crystal set the bowl of hot water and the cotton pad to one side and wrapped both arms around Roger who lowered his head to press it against Crystal’s shoulder. “Thanks,” Roger muttered. A thought occurred to him. “Weren’t you meeting your secret lover tonight?”

“I was just about to leave when you came back,” Crystal told him. “I wasn’t sure if I would have to work tonight or not so I’d arranged to meet them later. I’ll cancel though. You shouldn’t be on your own.”

“Oh, you mustn’t do that!” Roger cried. “I’ll be just fine on my own!”

Crystal shook his head. “I’m staying with you, Dreamer, and that’s final.” He tousled Roger’s hair. “Do you think they had been watching you?” he asked.

Roger shuddered. He considered this carefully. “No,” he decided, “I think they were just looking for trouble. If they hadn’t attacked me for – as they put it – looking like a fairy – they would have menaced a woman or an old lady or some other lone person they felt they could intimidate. They were looking for trouble and I was the first target they saw.”

“You haven’t seen them in the pub before?” Crystal persisted.

Roger shook his head. “They’ve never been in the pub,” he assured Crystal, “and I’ve never seen them round here or where I used to live. I don’t think it was personal.” He managed a small smile. “At least they didn’t take my wallet.”

A couple had approached, disturbing Roger’s attackers who had fled into the night. He knew he had been lucky they had come along when they did. If they had not he suspected that losing his wallet would have been the very least of his concerns.

Plenty of damage had been inflicted on him as it was. Crystal produced a tube of ointment. “This is good for bruising,” he informed Roger, “which you’re going to have a lot of,” he sighed.

*

Crystal ran him a bath with bath salts in it. As he soaked in the bath Roger could hear Crystal’s voice and felt a pang of guilt as he realised Crystal must be calling to cancel his date. It seemed to be a very casual relationship – Crystal only saw the mysterious person occasionally and Roger was intrigued and also slightly worried about Crystal.

He dressed in his cosiest softest pyjamas and went to his room. He was touched to find Crystal had put a hot water bottle in his bed. “Thank you,” he said when Crystal appeared in the doorway to offer him a mug of hot chocolate. “I’m sorry I ruined your evening.”

“You haven’t ruined anything,” Crystal assured him.

*

Once Roger was safely tucked up in bed with his mug of hot chocolate and a hot water bottle Crystal settled down to review their shift patterns so that Roger was never returning home alone after a late shift again. He shuddered at the thought of how much worse that could have been. Neither horoscope had foretold that. 

*

“What happened to your face?” John cried in dismay as Roger came to take his order on Friday. 

“It was an attempted mugging,” Roger told him. “The usual?” he added.

“Yes, please,” John nodded, “That’s awful,” he said, “Have the police caught who did it?”

Roger shook his head. “A couple interrupted the muggers and they ran off. Too late for my face but I managed to keep my wallet, which was good. I don’t think I would recognise them.”

“I hope you heal quickly,” John said as he handed over the money for his pint.

*

“Really, darling,” Freddie sighed, “Couldn’t you have offered to take him out to dinner to help him recuperate or something?” Biscuit was curled up on his lap and he stroked her gently. 

“I think that would be a bit over the top,” John mumbled, adding, “I barely know him.”

“You’re never going to know him if you don’t have more of a conversation with him than ‘pint please and thank you’,” Freddie noted. He frowned. “I feel like I’ve said this to you before.”

John decided not to point out that he had. “I know you’re right,” he sighed, “but it just doesn’t seem to be that easy.”

*

It was Phoebe who mentioned that Roger had been the victim of a homophobic attack. “Crystal says they called him all kinds of vile names and he thinks Roger would have ended up in hospital if a couple hadn’t happened to come along,” he informed John as he placed his coffee in front of him on Monday morning. “Crystal thinks he is to blame for not being there to take Roger home but it was his day off.”

“Are they...?” John didn’t quite ask.

He was relieved when Phoebe shook his head and laughed. “No,” he told John, “They do live together now – Crystal said Roger was living in an absolute hovel and he has a little spare room so Roger has moved in with him. But Roger apparently regards him as family.”

“Family?” John echoed. Crystal had said a lot to Phoebe, he noted. He added, “I didn’t realise you were so friendly with Crystal.” Phoebe flushed at that and changed the subject and John wondered if he had put his foot in it. Could it be Crystal that Phoebe was in a relationship with? 

*

Miami swept into the office late on the following Tuesday afternoon and declared that it was his birthday and the drinks were on him. John hesitated. He had promised Freddie they would go to the cinema after work. “He can come for a drink first, can’t he?” Phoebe proposed reasonably and John thought that yes, perhaps Freddie should come for a drink. Maybe he could find a way to introduce him to Brian. He glanced at Phoebe about to tell him that was a good suggestion and saw the way that Phoebe – thinking himself unobserved – was looking at Miami.

It was as if John had seen them kissing. He felt as if he had intruded on an intimate moment. He cleared his throat. “Yes, good idea. I’ll suggest that to Freddie. He should be waiting for me downstairs.” Not Crystal, then, for Phoebe, but the boss – Miami. 

*

Freddie was flicking through the latest copy of the magazine in reception and chatting animatedly with the receptionist when John came downstairs. He explained what was happening to Freddie. “Oh, I’d love to go the pub, darling!” Freddie beamed, “At long last I’ll get to see this Roger.”

John’s stomach turned a somersault. He hadn’t considered that. “You won’t say anything, will you?” he hissed. 

“John, are you coming?” a voice asked before Freddie could reply. “Oh, hi,” the voice added sounded awkward.

John turned and found Brian hovering behind them. “Brian, this is my friend Freddie. Freddie this is Brian, one of my bosses.” He explained that Freddie had very kindly agreed to change their plans.

“Pleased to meet you,” Brian said politely. He asked what Freddie had been thinking about seeing at the cinema and they chatted all the way to the pub. John felt both glad that they seemed to be getting on well and that he had not needed to engineer a meeting and also slightly cross that they were basically ignoring him.

As they entered the pub he glanced to the bar, as he always did for that first beautiful glimpse of Roger, and he noted Crystal, Phoebe and Miami right at the end of the bar. John’s eyes flicked to Roger and he realised Roger was also glancing towards Crystal, Miami and Phoebe. As he watched a roar went up from elsewhere in the room. He heard Brian laugh at whatever had caused the hilarity and Freddie was saying something but John was still watching the trio at the bar because while everyone else’s attention was elsewhere Crystal had risked a little kiss with Miami. Phoebe had one hand on Miami’s shoulder and as John watched he let the fingertips of his other hand caress Crystal’s cheek. Just as quickly they all stepped slightly back and away from each other. Well, John thought that cleared up that mystery.

“Is that your Roger?” Freddie asked, startling him slightly, “The blond,” he clarified. 

“Yes,” John sighed.

“What can I get you to drink?” Brian offered cheerfully. 

*

It was quiet enough to allow John to perch on one of the high stools at the bar. A lot of the magazine staff had stayed for one drink then headed home to their families. Freddie was at the centre of a more hardcore group who had commandeered a large booth. They were all laughing at some tale Freddie was regaling them with. Brian was sitting next to him which John thought was an excellent sign.

Crystal followed John’s gaze to the group. “Your mate seems to be getting on well with Brian,” he observed. John thought he must have looked horrified as Crystal added, “Any kind of love is fine by me.” John relaxed a little. While he knew Crystal also liked men he had discovered before to his cost that sometimes went hand in hand with self-loathing and while he doubted very much Crystal would give him any trouble you could never be too careful. He immediately grew tense again when Crystal said, “So, tell me, who writes the horoscopes?”

“Ooh, yes,” Roger arrived at Crystal’s side. “They’re ever so good!” 

John took a gulp of his drink so he could delay giving an answer. “Uh...I do...” he mumbled. Then he considered this. “Um...” They both looked stunned. “Have you been writing to me?” He blushed. What if it wasn’t them?

“Writing to you?” Crystal echoed. Roger had turned scarlet. Crystal turned to look at Roger. “What’ve you done?” Crystal sighed. 

“I just wanted you to know how good the horoscopes are, that’s all,” Roger mumbled. 

“That was very sweet of you,” John told him. “I’m afraid I don’t know anything about astrology so they’re just made up.”

Crystal laughed but Roger looked so disappointed John thought his heart might break. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was taken on to do Household Gods and Problem Solved but they needed someone to do the horoscopes too.”

“You do the agony aunt stuff?” Crystal said.

John nodded. “It wasn’t what I expected to be doing,” he muttered, “But a job’s a job.”

“Oh, your replies in Problem Solved are lovely!” Roger sighed, looking slightly happier. “Your advice to Sonia from Hull in the most recent edition was very understanding!”

John was struggling to recall what Sonia’s problem had been. Had she been the one who thought her husband was having an affair? He was currently composing a reply to Kelly from Bristol who wanted to re-kindle things in the bedroom.

Crystal wandered off to serve someone. Roger gave John a little awkward smile and then said, “It must be interesting to read all the problem letters?”

John nodded. “Some of them are heart-breaking though. Phoebe reads more of them than I do and he tends to select which ones we should answer.” He studied Roger. “I’m sorry about the horoscopes. I feel I’ve disappointed you.”

Roger shook his head. “No, well, maybe a little but whether you invented them or not they did come true so I still think there’s something in it!”

John sighed. “They’re just generalised statements that could apply to a lot of different situations,” he pointed out, “That’s why they sometimes seem to come true.”

“Crystal said that too,” Roger nodded, “before what you wrote came true for him, too.” He gave John a sunny smile and turned away to serve another customer. 

*

“I’m very disappointed in you, dear,” Freddie sighed the following morning as John sat slumped over his cornflakes at the breakfast table. “I have a date with Brian but you spent all evening talking to Roger and haven’t managed to ask him out yet.”

John looked up and the movement caused his stomach to lurch. He was never drinking on a weekday night again. “You have a date with Brian?”

“He’s taking me out to dinner on Saturday,” Freddie beamed, “You were quite wrong about him you know, dear, he’s not too intense for me at all!”

*

“Good morning!” Roger sang as Crystal dragged his aching body into the kitchen. Roger was always insanely cheerful even at the most ungodly hours of the day. Crystal grunted at him in response. “I didn’t hear you come in?” Roger added. 

“Late,” Crystal muttered. Late or maybe early depending on how you looked at it. Once he had taken Roger home after their shift he had driven on to see Miami and Phoebe.

“Coffee?” Roger offered and Crystal nodded. “Did you have a good night?” Roger asked. It was the sort of question Crystal usually made a non-verbal non-committal noise in response to but Roger followed it up this morning with the killer, “It was Miami’s birthday, wasn’t it? Did you and Phoebe have a special birthday treat for him?”

“Fucking hell, Roggie!” Crystal protested. 

“You should be more careful where you kiss,” Roger advised him sweetly. He added in a more serious tone, “Really, you should be more careful.”

“Yeah,” Crystal agreed. He looked intently at Roger. “You...Are you...?”

“Shocked?” Roger suggested, “No,” he shook his head, “I’m a little bit sad you didn’t feel you could tell me though.”

Crystal scratched his head. “It wasn’t...I’m not ashamed of it...And I completely trust you...But they keep their relationship a secret because Miami is Phoebe’s boss so...I’ve just kept my relationship with them a secret too. And obviously we don’t want the whole world knowing...”

Roger’s face cleared. “I thought maybe...Well, that’s understandable.” He shrugged and added matter-of-factly, “Who would I tell?” 

Roger could break your heart without even trying, Crystal thought. “Thanks,” he murmured as Roger set a mug of coffee in front of him. “How did you get on with John?” he asked to change the subject. 

*

Freddie met Brian in The Grape. Brian had arrived early and had explained to Crystal that he was waiting for Freddie. Crystal had considered this. When Freddie arrived he asked if he could have a very brief word with him. Freddie looked surprised but agreed. “It’s about my colleague Roger,” Crystal began, “And your flatmate John.”

Freddie rolled his eyes. “Oh, they’re hopeless,” he sighed. 

“Yeah, well, I’ve been thinking about that...” Crystal said. 

*

John was absurdly pleased that Biscuit had decided to curl around his neck. She usually only did that with Freddie. “Just you and me tonight, little kitten,” he told her. He was viewing the food options, trying to decide what to have for dinner when the doorbell rang. “Are you expecting anyone, Miss Kitten?” he asked Biscuit. Biscuit made a little huffing noise he took as a no.

It would be someone looking for a different flat, John thought as he moved to the door. Everyone had their names on their doors and on the door entry system though but John didn’t see who else it could be. Or maybe it was a door to door salesman, although this seemed a funny time for them to be calling. 

He peered through the spy-hole and at first could only see deep red velvety looking roses. Then the flowers shifted and a slightly distorted Roger came into view. John hurried to open the door. “Roger!” he exclaimed. “How...unexpected...and lovely...Come in!”

Roger held out the flowers – a huge bouquet of expensive looking dark red roses and held up a much less expensive looking plastic bag. “Fish ‘n’ chips,” he declared. “I hope you like fish ‘n’ chips,” he added anxiously. “I should’ve asked first. Will you have dinner with me?” He sighed. “I’ve done this all wrong...”

“No,” John shook his head. “You’ve done this perfectly. Come in,” he repeated. 

“A kitten!” Roger said delightedly. “A kitten scarf! Hey, little neck-warming kitten!” He wiped his feet thoroughly on the door mat. “Should I take my shoes off? I will, I think, it’s raining out. I do hope my socks aren’t holey.”

John grinned. “Don’t worry about it. Mine are. I’m not really dressed for a dinner date, even if it is at home.”

“You are wearing a kitten, so you are perfectly dressed,” Roger remarked. 

*

They ate the fish and chips sitting at the kitchen table out of the newspaper. They both agreed they tasted better that way. Roger explained that when Brian and Freddie arrived at the pub to have a drink before they went on to dinner it had occurred to Crystal that John would be home alone. He had contrived with Freddie to obtain their address and had sent Roger off to shower and change and get the flowers and the fish and chips. 

“Where did you get such beautiful flowers at this time of night?” John wondered. 

“Crystal knows someone who owns a little flower shop near the pub. He called her and told her we had an emergency requiring a dozen red roses!” Roger laughed. “She opened up the shop and sorted those out. It was very kind of her. She seemed to enjoy the drama though!”

“You went to all that trouble for me?” John said.

“Well...It was mostly Crystal and the nice flower shop lady who went to the trouble,” Roger pointed out.

John grinned. “You’d have got me flowers from the nearest petrol station?”

“I would,” Roger agreed also grinning. “I did go to the best fish ‘n’ chip shop in town, though.”

*

A few months later Brian stopped by John’s desk, perching on the edge of it. “We’ve been receiving a lot of letters praising your caring responses on the problem pages,” he told John. “I haven’t seen any further letters from our friend who thought his zodiac messages were coming true though,” he laughed. 

“Maybe I’ve lost my touch,” John laughed. Roger now helped him make them up. Roger and Freddie usually sat discussing what should be happening for each sign taking it much more seriously than John did. 

“What’s this?” Phil the reporter whose job John coveted was wandering by with a mug of coffee. “Some nut thought their horoscope was coming true?” he scoffed. 

John shrugged and kept his voice light, “What sign are you? I’ll see if I can make you come into money or something!”

They all laughed. “Taurus,” Phil said, “and I wouldn’t mind a bit of cash!”

*

There was nothing in it, of course. Therefore there was no harm in writing a horoscope for Taurus that involved predictions of a new job with a higher salary, John reasoned. Even if – incredibly – unbelievably – it came true there was no guarantee that John would get Phil’s job. There were plenty of other people who had worked at the magazine for far longer than him and were good writers.

“You should put a new job in yours, too,” Roger suggested, sliding his arms around John from behind and kissing his cheek. He rested his chin on John’s shoulder. 

John shook his head. “I write that one for you and you don’t want a new job, do you?”

“Do you?” Roger asked in surprise. “How lovely! No one’s ever written anything for me before, I don’t think.”

John laughed. “It’s hardly love poetry,” he noted. Sometimes Roger said things that broke his heart he thought.

“You’re trying to create a lovely future for me,” Roger pointed out, “That’s love poetry, I think.”

“At the moment I’m trying to get rid of my rival,” John sighed, “I don’t think that’s very lovely of me!”

“I don’t think I said you were lovely, did I?” Roger teased, his lips tugging gently at the lobe of John’s ear. “But sometimes you do lovely things,” he added. “And sometimes you do naughty things,” he continued, his voice low and seductive in John’s ear. 

“And did you have a naughty thing in mind that you would like me to do just now?” John wondered. 

“Ugh – get a room you two!” Freddie gasped as he entered the kitchen. Biscuit was draped around his neck and he reached one hand up to cover her eyes. 

“That’s a wonderful suggestion, Freddie, thanks,” John grinned, standing up and clasping Roger’s hand towing him in the direction of his bedroom. 

*

“Have you heard the news?” Phoebe asked John around a week later. John shook his head. “Phil’s been offered a job as sub-editor of ‘The Pulse’.”

“I didn’t realise he was looking for a new job,” John remarked.

“He wasn’t, I don’t think,” Phoebe shrugged, “He’s been head-hunted. I don’t think Miami is very pleased.”

Later that day Brian asked John to step into his office. John was very aware of everyone’s gaze swivelling towards the little glass box Brian worked in. Miami was perched on the edge of the desk.

“I expect you’ve heard that Phil will be leaving us?” Brian said and John nodded. “We were wondering if you would like to try your hand at a couple of articles of the sort that he produces.”

“We’re asking a few people to do the same thing,” Miami added, “But I must say that we have been very impressed with your writing style. We’re keen to see what you can do.”

*

“Clever you,” Roger kissed him, “Not only getting your dream job but negotiating keeping Phoebe as your assistant,” he beamed.

John grinned, “And I’ve got my dream man, too. I couldn’t be any happier.”

Roger laughed. “Good, neither could I!”

“I still can’t get rid of the bloody horoscopes though,” John sighed. 

Roger looked shocked. “I should hope not! They’re what brought us together!”

John silently reflected that technically Freddie and Crystal had brought them together. He doubted Roger would accept that though. 

“Besides,” Roger laughed, “The horoscopes give you lots of power!”

John laughed too. “They don’t seem able to create wealth,” he noted, “Crystal’s the only one who got any money out of one of my predictions!”

“Maybe you just have to give it some time,” Roger suggested, “And we have the rest of our lives,” he added, kissing John again. 

John was about to say he didn’t expect to be writing the horoscopes for the rest of his life but Roger’s kisses distracted him. He decided it would be a better use of his time steering Roger towards the bedroom instead.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year everyone! :)


End file.
